


It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

by f0rever15elf



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Food mention, Panic Attack Mention, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, alcohol mention, break in, gun mention, ptsd mention, reader in danger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf
Summary: When life forces you to relocate to a small town in Texas, you’re incredibly upset. That is, until your neighbor comes by to lend a hand. Could this be the start of something that will change your life?
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales & Reader, Francisco "Catfish" Morales/You
Comments: 20
Kudos: 60





	1. Move-In Day

“I hate moving,” you groan as you unload yet ANOTHER box from the Penske in your driveway. It’s hot, humid, your hands are drying out from all the cardboard, and your knees and back ache from all the bending and lifting. You had been out here for hours unloading the truck and it was still half full. When the hell did you get so much…stuff? You need to remember to make a massive donation to the nearest thrift store when you get the chance.

Still grumbling as you shift things around in the truck to make for easier unloading, you don’t hear the footsteps approach the back of the truck. The rapping of knuckles on the metal frame damn near sends you through the roof of the truck. Insurance sure wouldn’t cover that.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you!” You turn around with wide eyes at the sound of the voice, a sheen of sweat covering your face. “You looked like you could use some help, I came over to offer, I’m sorry.” A man stands there, hands up in front of him, palms facing you as if to calm you. He piqued your interest with his broad shoulders and strong stance that didn’t really match the soft voice or features.

“It’s alright, I should pay more attention. Who are you?” You dust off your hands, walking to the back of the truck with your hand extended, offering your name.

“Oh, yeah, should probably introduce myself. I’m Francisco, Frankie. I’m your neighbor to the left.” He points his thumb over his shoulder before taking your hand in a firm shake. You return it just as firmly and smile as his eyebrows raise slightly. “Good handshake.”

“Thanks. I don’t wanna take you away from your day, Francisco, I’m sure you’re busy. I appreciate the offer, though.” You turn to head back to the boxes, looking back over your shoulder in confusion when the truck moves as Frankie hoists himself into the bed.

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t have the time to. It’s hot out here, so the quicker you can get this done, the quicker you can stop cooking out here in the heat.” He flashes you a grin, causing you to chuckle.

“You’re very sweet, Francisco, but if you offer like this, I’m gonna put you to work.”

He rests his hands on his hips and nods, still grinning. “Ma’am, I’m former military. Work is the only thing I know how to do.”

“Well then, double time, let’s get these boxes inside so I can finally drink the beers that are waiting for me.” He salutes in good humor and you laugh, shaking your head as you resume unloading.

Many hands make light work, and with Frankie’s help, you’re able to get the truck unloaded in about an hour. The sound of the door of the truck sliding closed is music to your ears as you lead Frankie inside, immediately moving to the fridge to pull out a couple of Modelos.

“That wasn’t so bad!” He huffs, leaning against your counter, smiling in thanks as he takes the beer you offer.

“See, you say that, but you’re sweating like a dog, Fancisco,” you grin as you take a sip, relishing in the cool drink after a day of busting your ass in the heat. Why did you decide to move to Texas again? Oh right, cause it was what you could afford.

“Still better than hauling combat gear,” he retorts, his eyes roaming over the boxes crowding your new home. “You, uh, need help unpacking or anything?” His eyes drift back to you as you chuckle.

“You really are bored, aren’t you?”

“Just trying to be a good neighbor is all.”

“Well, I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ve got this part of the job. In all seriousness though, thank you for helping me unload everything. It would have taken twice as long if not longer if you hadn’t come over to help.” He grins sheepishly and nods to you, setting down his beer to lift his ball cap and run a hand through the soft mess of curls before pulling the hat back firmly in place. 

“Any time, really. I enjoy helping.” His smile is so genuine and warm that you can’t help but return it. You really hadn’t wanted to move to Texas, wishing you could have moved literally anywhere else, but maybe living here wouldn’t be so bad after all.

After a few days of settling in and getting your kitchen back in order, you decide you should do something to thank Frankie for his willingness to help you move in. He had insisted that the beer and conversation was enough, but your stubbornness wouldn’t let it stop there. And so you decide to make him some dinner as a thank you. You have absolutely no idea what this man liked, but you feel like it was probably a good bet that he would enjoy your home made mac’n’cheese and baked chicken. Who could resist mac’n’cheese, right? An hour or so later, you find yourself knocking on Frankie’s door, bouncing anxiously on the balls of your feet with the insulating bag over your shoulder. As the door opens, your lips part into a wide smile.

“Hi Frankie!” He blinks in surprise finding you on his doorstep.

“Hey! What brings you over, neighbor?” He crosses his arms with a smile, leaning against the doorway with that baseball cap still on his head. The few times you had seen him in the driveway he had still had it on, and it was getting to the point where you wonder if he ever took it off.

“I wanted to say thank you for the other day when you helped me move in.” Taking the bag from your shoulder, you hand it over to him with a bright smile. “My home made mac’n’cheese and a chicken bake.” The sparkle in his eyes is a welcome relief, sometimes gambling paid off.

“Why, uh, why don’t you come in and eat with me?” His hopeful smile makes your heart stutter as he takes the bag from you, stepping back to allow you entry. You can’t deny that he was handsome to begin with, and the smile only amplified that.

“I couldn’t impose, I-” He waves his hand and cuts you off before you can protest any further.

“You’re not imposing, I invited you in. C’mon, dinner is always better when you can share it with someone.”

You worry your lip between your teeth for a moment before nodding. “On one condition.”

“Yes, I have beer you can have,” he laughs before you’re even able to ask and you feel the heat race to your cheeks.

“How long were you going to wait to tell me you were psychic?” The smile never fades from your lips as you step inside, politely removing your shoes as you look around. His house was similar to yours in layout, just mirrored. Along the walls were multiple pictures, some of a group of men in uniform, some of Frankie holding a little baby girl, and a few of dogs. The uniformed picture catches your eye most of all, and you smile when you see Frankie in his gear, a piloting headset around his neck and medal hanging from his breast. It felt nice here, homey.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll get the food served up,” he calls from the kitchen. “Sorry about the mess!”

“Frankie, my house is filled with half empty cardboard boxes, you don’t need to apologize about papers on the coffee table.” The laughter you pull from him with your reply results in a warmth spreading through your chest, and you smile, taking a seat on the couch. The picture on the end table is another one of Frankie holding a little baby, staring at her with the most adoring gaze you had ever seen. “How precious…” you whisper.

“What’s that?” Frankie asks, coming into the living room with two plates of food before going back for the beers.

“Nothing, just the picture. Thanks.” You take your beer, taking a sip before picking up your plate as he joins you on the couch.

“Oh, that’s my little girl Mallory. She’ll be one next moth.” His smile as he looks at the painting is so soft and gentle, you felt like you could cry.

“You’re a father?” Your eyes dart to his left hand, a wedding band suspiciously absent, and he nods.

“I didn’t work out between me and the Mrs. I have shared custody of her, but with her still breast feeding, she needs to stay with her mom more than with me. They visit on the weekends so I get my baby time.”

“That sounds like a good arrangement, though I’m sorry to hear about your ex-wife.” Picking at the food on your plate, you watch him as he nods then digs into his, his face lighting up. He looks like an excited puppy.

“This is some of the best mac’n’cheese I have ever had, you gotta get me the recipe,” he begs, reaching out to put his hand on your knee. Your eyes dart down to his hand which he yanks back as if the contact burnt him, and when you look back up to his face, his cheeks are flushed crimson. “S-Sorry about that.” You chuckle and shake your head, sitting back against the arm of the couch as you eat.

“It’s fine, Frankie. I’m glad you like it, but sadly, I can’t give you the recipe. Family secret.” You wink and chuckle, trying to ignore the heat in your own cheeks as he pouts at you.

“But what if i-”

“Not a chance, flyboy,” you laugh. The laugh dies on your lips as he tenses up, staring at you, as apprehensive as he is confused.

“What did you just call me?” His voice is tight and drawn, putting you on edge and you set your plate down.

“…Flyboy…? You…you’re a pilot, right?”

“How did you know that?” He demands, the light in his eyes hardening.

“The-The pictures.” You point to the hallway where the picture of Frankie with what you can only assume is his squad hangs on the wall. “Pilot’s helmet in your hands, the headphones.” Your voice began to tremble, suddenly much less comfortable under Francisco’s heavy stare. “And the air medal…” The words tumble from your lips as barely a whisper as your neighbor still says nothing. You fidget in your seat, wishing he would just _say_ something rather than just stare at you like you had grown a second head. “M-My dad was in the army, that’s how I know what the medal looks like. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you I won’t call you that again. I…I should go, I’ve overstayed my welcome, I’m sorry.” You stand quickly, all but running to put your plate in the sink before slipping on your shoes and letting yourself out. Frankie’s eyes watch you the whole way, silent.

As you close yourself off in the safety of your own home, you nearly break down in tears as you lean against the door. You didn’t mean to upset him, but he must have really bad memories about the army if that’s how the nickname affects him. Frankie is the closest thing you have to a friend in Texas, and you pray to whatever god is listening that you hadn’t just ruined your chances of keeping that friendship.

Taking a few minutes to compose yourself, you finally push off the door. Unpacking boxes will take your mind off of things, you think, and so you set to unpacking as many boxes as possible, determined to forget how much you had just botched dinner.

Frankie sits on his couch for a long time after you leave, just staring at the door, his food long forgotten. It scared him how much you were able to pick up about him from one picture, not use to the people he knew being so observant. Why did you picking that out upset him so much?

“Don’t be ridiculous, Morales, you know why,” he chastises himself as he stands to take his dishes to the kitchen to clean, pausing before leaving the living room when he catches movement outside his window. You hadn’t hung your curtains in your living room yet, and his living room window had a clear view into yours without them. You were organizing your living room, it looked like, occasionally wiping your eyes. Shit…had he made you cry with how he reacted? “Class A fucking move, Fish. You really fucked up this time.”


	2. Come Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A make up and a break in, what a turn of events.

A week or so after taking Frankie dinner, and subsequently bolting for home after upsetting him, you are finally starting to settle into your new abode. The number of cardboard boxes left in your living room dwindles ever smaller as shelves become filled with nick-nacks, books, photos, and plants. All that was left, really, was taking care of your front yard, which you were finding every opportunity to put off. Not because you dislike yard work. On the contrary, you actually quite enjoy it. However, your neighbor Francisco seems to always be outside, working on one thing or another. One day it’s some carpentry project, the next he’s dismantling some sort of machinery, covered head to toe in grease and grime as he sweats away under the Texas sun. After the events at his house, you are extremely hesitant to afford any sort of awkward potential confrontation.

Cowardly? Maybe. Do you care? No.

One morning, you wake up earlier than usual, rising before the sun feeling completely refreshed. Deciding to take advantage of the time and therefor significantly cooler conditions outside, you slip into your work clothes. Today you will finally tackle the yard. Maybe you could be done before Frankie makes his first appearance outside to do whatever it is that handymen do with their time. Seriously, how did he have so much time?

With a grunt, you begin lugging boxes outside of yard decorations your mother had _insisted_ you take. Some are as simple as little spiked things with a glass butterfly on them that you stab into the ground. Others needed a little bit more coercion to come together. Like this infernal birdbath. You didn’t want a birdbath, but your mother claimed that “every self-respecting Texan has a birdbath in their yard.” You have driven up and down this street dozens of times already, and not a birdbath one have you seen. Well, for her sake at least, you’d figure out somewhere to put it.

The morning presses on, the sun slowly peeking up over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pinks and golds. You take a moment to appreciate the beauty and stillness of it all…until the grackles start screaming. Two weeks in Texas and you were already sick of the damn things. Worse than the pigeons of the city, they were like rats with wings. A solid two hours of work sees most of your decorations put up, save the hummingbird feeder you want to hang on your porch. You make a quick run inside to grab your step stool and drill to pilot in the hook for the feeder chain, setting everything up on the porch and stepping up, drill in hand. You hum to yourself as you stand on your tip-toes, piloting the hole for the hook, laser focused when your ankle wobbles and you lose your balance. The drill thuds to the ground as you tip backwards on the stool, panic gripping you as you flail your arms to try and regain your balance, but to no avail.

“I gotcha!” You thud back against something soft, arms catching you under your own. You take a second to re-orient yourself before looking up, seeing Frankie standing there behind you, still supporting you under your arms. Your eyes widen and you bolt out of his grasp, stumbling a bit as you get away, your heart racing. “You okay?” His eyes are clearly concerned, but you’re doing your best to avoid looking at his face, a heat racing to your own.

“Y-yeah, I’m good. Weak ankles.” You clear your throat, picking up the drill. You lament the broken pre-drill bit from the impromptu meeting with the ground. “Sorry about that. Erm, thanks, I guess. I should, uh, get back inside. I have some…stuff…that needs doing and I just…yeah.” As you ramble, you shuffle back towards the house, awkwardly extracting yourself from the conversation.

“Could we…talk, maybe?” Frankie asks, a nervousness in his voice that goes completely unnoticed by you.

“Sorry, I’m just really busy with the things and just, yeah. Have a good day!” You open the door, spinning inside and all but slamming the door, leaving Frankie confused and downtrodden on the porch. You pull the curtain by the front door back just enough to see Frankie standing there, staring at your door. He takes off his cap, running a hand through his hair in frustration before turning to head back to his place, shaking his head the whole way. You let out the breath you were holding, your head thudding against the door jam. You know you can’t avoid your neighbor forever, but the idea of confrontation terrifies you. Best to just…let it alone.

Later that day, there is a knock on your door. Something rather unexpected given that the only person you know in this entire state is your neighbor. Surely after earlier he wouldn’t be coming back by, right? You shake your head before poking it out your door, looking around in confusion when you see no one. You’re just about to shut your door when you look down and see your dishes from the time you had dinner with Frankie. The tops are wrapped in tinfoil, and the smell of steaks fills your senses. A note is stuck to the top in messy, slanted handwriting.

‘ _I figured I’d return your favor along with your dishes. Enjoy dinner. -Frankie’_ A smile pulls at your lips as you crouch down, pulling back the foil to reveal three cooked steaks and a tray of mashed potatoes. It all smells heavenly and your stomach growls loudly in anticipation. There is no way you could eat all of this on your own, you think as you set the trays on your counter. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you chew it nervously as you deliberate with yourself.

“Ah, what the hell,” you yell, tossing your hands up in defeat before heading next door, knocking and stepping back to wait. You offer a worried smile as Frankie opens the door, shifting your weight around as he blinks at you, surprised.

“Oh, uh…hey. Did you get the stuff I left you? Those steaks should be good and rested now…” His lean against the doorway is much more nervous this time than it was when you brought him food, you notice.

“Yeah, it all smells great. I uh..I was wondering. Do you want to come, uh, come eat with me? It’s a lot of food and I just…yeah.” You are truly the pinnacle of eloquence. Frankie hesitates for a moment and you immediately start to backpedal. He’s obviously still upset with you, you should have realized. “O-or not. T-that’s okay too, I just thought I’d offer and I just… I dunno I guess,” you start taking hesitant steps backwards. “If you wanted to but if you don’t I get it.”

“I’ll come.”

“Yeah, that’s totally fine, I get not wanting to- wait, what?” Frankie can’t help the snort of a laugh that breaks from his lips, a smile gracing his face as he watches the dumbfounded expression on yours.

“I’ll come and eat with you. I’d like that.” He steps out, pulling his door shut behind him.

“O-okay. I, uhm, I’d like that too.” You flash him a nervous smile before turning to head back to your house, Frankie following close behind you. “It’s way more put together than last time you were over. I’m pretty much done moving in.” You slip out of your shoes as you cross your threshold, Frankie following suit before following you to the kitchen and dining area. He stays quiet as he leans against the counter, watching you get the dishes down. After a moment or two, he finally breaks the silence.

“Are you upset with me?” His voice is soft and worried, and it makes your heart stutter at how vulnerable it sounds. You glance over your shoulder to him, noting the crease between his brows as he stares at his clasped hands.

“…Why do you ask?” You turn back to serving the food, rummaging in your silverware drawer for a couple of steak knives and forks.

“Just cause whenever you notice me outside, I feel like I’m watching a cartoon with how fast you run inside before I can even get a hello out.” Setting the plate of food in front of him before picking up your own, you sigh, leading him to the table. “And then earlier today..” He gestures vaguely at nothing.

“I don’t like confrontation,” you admit, returning for two beers before taking your seat at the table. Frankie accepts the drink with a polite nod and quiet thank you before joining you. “I was afraid after how dinner last week went that you were still upset with me, and I didn’t want to face that. So I kept…removing myself from the situation.” Your eyes never leave your plate, picking up your fork to pick at your potatoes.

“Why would I be upset with you…?” Frankie sounds legitimately flabbergasted, and your eyes flick up to find him staring at you, bewildered.

“You got kinda angry when I called you, erm….that name last time.” He sighs, sitting back in his seat, and nods.

“I’m really sorry about that. It just caught me off guard is all. A lot has happened recently and the name just reminded me of it. But hey,” he leans forward, resting his hand over yours as you continue to play with your potatoes. The contact tingles and you can feel a heat rising in your cheeks as you look back up at your neighbor. “I’m not mad at you, I promise.” The smile on his face is genuine and kind and your heart stutters. This man was going to give you a heart attack by just looking at you, you could feel it. When he pulls his hand back, digging into his food, you almost lament the loss of contact, sitting back in your own seat far more at ease than before.

“Oh, and thanks for earlier. For catching my graceless self.” You chuckle, trying to get conversation flowing again.

“Not a problem, really. I’m just glad I have long legs. Lets me move pretty fast.” He grins at you and you can’t help the laugh that comes from you, only working to widen his smile. “By the way, was that a birdbath in the front yard…?”

“Y-Yeah…it was a gift from my mom. Apparently she thinks every Texan has a birdbath. Do you know how many birdbaths are on this street, Frankie?”

“How many?”

“A big fat zero!” You throw your hands up in exasperation and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Well, there’s one now.”

“Can it, Morales.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he snickers and you resist the urge to throw your napkin at him. The way his eyes scrunch up when he laughs doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and the light in his eyes is so happy, it brings a smile to your lips. “Well,” he smacks his knees, moving back from the table a bit. “I should probably get home. I need to clean up before my ex brings my little girl over tomorrow morning.” You had completely forgotten Frankie was a father, but you smile and nod, standing up to take your plates to the kitchen.

“Thank you for the food, Frankie. It really was delicious. You cook a mean steak.” You grin over your shoulder at him as he follows you to the kitchen, chuckling.

“I’m a Texan, after all. It’s a requirement that we know how to cook steak and barbecue. I don’t make the rules.”

“Well, I hate to be a rule breaker. You may just need to teach me one of these days.” The smile across your lips is one of the most gorgeous things Frankie thinks he has ever seen, and he would do anything to see you with it all of the time.

“We can make that happen.” He takes a step towards you and nervously holds out his arms. “Uh…hug goodbye?” You try to contain the giggle at the nervous sound in his voice, like a teenager trying to ask his crush to the dance. With a nod, you embrace him briefly before pulling away, smiling up at him.

“Have a good night, Frankie.”

“You too.” He pats your shoulder before turning, shuffling out the front door to head back to his own place. He sends you a wave from his own patio which you return, your head sticking comically out the front door, before he makes his way inside for the night. You do the same, sighing with content as you head to the living room to watch the news.

You have only been in this little neighborhood a little over two weeks, but it was always quiet. You had noted that several of the houses had children who were always outside playing in the yards or riding bikes, even in the sweltering summer sun. A fair number of people had dogs as well, usually meeting up to chat as they went on their walks. Every single stereotype of a quiet, suburban neighborhood seemed to fit your new home, and you had never felt safer. Collapsing on the couch and kicking your feet up, you click on the news.

“Oh good God, another week of triple digit weather,” you groan as the far too happy weather forecaster talks through the week. “My first power bill is gonna be through the roof.” Weather turns to sports turns to upcoming events. Just as you start to lose interest in the program, the anchor’s tone turns serious, and blue and red flashing lights draw your attention from your phone back to the screen.

‘ _A rash of break-ins along Blue Jay Circle leave local residents fearing for their safety, the culprits still at large.’_

“B…But that’s just…” Your fingers type frantically at the screen, pulling up the address mentioned. Your heart falling through the floor when you realize it’s only two streets over.

‘ _Suspects are armed, according to eye-witness reports, though anyone has yet to be hurt. Local law enforcement encourages caution and for anyone with any tips to contact them immediately. Up next, Jimmy Fallon featuring special guest, Henry Cavil.’_ The ending music of the broadcast sounds…far more ominous than you are use to as your pulse hammers in your ears. Standing, you begin to pace your living room, a nervous hand combing through your hair repeatedly. What should you do? Should you go somewhere for a while till they catch this guy? You don’t have an alarm system yet, and you had forgotten your home defense weapon back with your parents. Should you just keep the big knife by your bed? No, that’s ridiculous. You let out a frustrated, fearful growl as your mind moves a mile a minute.

As soon as Frankie returns home, he does a little victory dance in his front hallway. Operation “make up with the cute neighbor” could be colored a success, and now it’s time to clean for the little one tomorrow. He hums lowly to himself, a jodi from his special forces days as he moves through the house, saving the living room for last. Just as he goes to shut the curtains, movement in your house catches his eye once again. You really need to learn to shut your blinds, he muses to himself. His amusement quickly shifts to concern when he sees you pacing, your posture stiff as you run your hand through your hair. His attention is drawn away by the sound of his phone ringing, his ex’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hey, what’s up?” he answers, eyes still watching you as you pace around your living room, occasionally shaking your head like you’re talking yourself through something.

“Francisco, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to bring Mallory over this weekend.” Her voice is incredibly anxious.

“What? Why?”

“Did you catch the news tonight?”

“No, I’ve been cleaning, getting ready for you to bring her over and everything. Why? You’re starting to worry me.” Frankie turns away from the window, hand resting on his hip as his brow furrows. “What’s going on, Nance?”

“There’s been a bunch of armed break-ins in your neighborhood, over on Blue Jay. They haven’t caught the guys yet.” Frankie’s heart clenches as his eyes move back to you, still pacing in your living room. “I’m just not comfortable bringing her over, Frankie. I’m scared.”

“No, I get it. It’s ok. Could I come over and see her at your place later then?” His voice is quiet, a mix of disappointment about not getting his daughter, and apprehension about your safety.

“Of course you can. Alexi is gone for the weekend, too. So no tension about being here with him.” Frankie grits his teeth at Alexi’s name. He’d always hated that guy. He was a douche, but he had money. At least he could provide for his little girl, and Frankie couldn’t be upset about that.

“Alright. Just text me to let me know when.”

“I will. And Frankie?” He hums in reply. “Please stay safe.” He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I will Nance, I promise. Kiss Mallory goodnight for me.”

“Ok. Goodnight, Francisco.” Before he can get out a reply, the line cuts. Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before heading out the door, finding himself back in front of yours. He hesitates, knuckles hovering over the door. Maybe he should just let you be. You’re an adult after all, he didn’t need to rescue you. He’s just about to turn and walk away when he hears your scream of frustration. His knuckles connect with the door before he even has time to think. The surprise followed by relief on your face when you open the door makes his heart do a weird little stutter. Maybe he should see a doctor about that…

“Frankie… What, uh…what’s up? Did you forget something?” He shakes his head, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“You left your blinds open and you looked kinda freaked out.” Smooth, Morales. Way to sound like a creep.

“You were watching me?” You turn your head to side-eye him, wary all of a sudden. His face flushes red and he holds his hands in front of him, defensive as he stutters out a reply.

“I-I was on the phone with my ex, she told me about some break ins a few streets over and I was in my living room and it faces yours and I was going to shut my blinds and I saw you pacing and…and…” his shoulders slump as you raise your eyebrow. “And…ok, yeah, I watched you pacing for a minute before I came over to check on you. Are…you ok?” You sigh, and open up your door for him to come in, and he obliges, slipping off his shoes as you shut and lock the door behind him.

“Honestly? Not really. Left my side arm with my parents on accident, so the most defensive thing I have in my home is a cooking knife and a cast iron skillet.” You shrug, going to pull two more beers from the fridge. “And I’m a little freaked out, being new here and all. I really only know you, so I have no where to go.” The bottles hiss as you pop the caps and hand a beer off to him before chugging a good third of your own as Frankie watches with raised eyebrows.

“Well…I don’t want to overstep, but I have a guest room if you’d like to crash there until they catch these guys?” This time your own brows raise as you lean back against the counter.

“I thought your little one was coming over tomorrow?”

“Her mother doesn’t want to bring her over till they catch these guys.” He shrugs, sipping his drink but not really tasting it. The way you chew your bottom lip as you consider his offer makes his heart do that stutter thing again and he has to tear his eyes away from you when thoughts start rearing up in his mind. “I uh…I have a home defense weapon, and I’m government trained on how to use it.” He glances back at you just in time to see you nod, taking another swig. “Side arms and long rifles.”

“If you really don’t mind…”

“I don’t, I promise. The bed is made up and everything.” He mutters something about always being prepared and a smile tugs at your lips.

“Then, give me a bit to pack up some things?” He smiles and nods, trying not to show just how excited he is for you to accept his offer. You return the smile, heading to your room to pack the essentials, rejoining him after a few minutes with a backpack and shoulder bag. “All set!” He smiles and opens the door for you to escort you back to his place. “This is really kind of you Frankie. I really appreciate this.”

His smile is so warm and inviting, it sets you at ease immediately. “It’s not a problem at all, really.”

Frankie’s home is just as comforting as the last time you were over, just significantly tidier this time around. Adequately baby-proofed. “Guest room is this way.” His hand grazes the small of your back as he steps past you and you shiver before following after him. The room he leads you to is the room you turned into an office in your own house. It’s small and cozy, unassuming in shades of white and beige. “Make yourself at home, alright? I’m assuming you know where the bathroom is, since we have pretty much the same house.” He laughs that lovely laugh of his and you nod, setting down your bags as you stifle a yawn.

“I’ll try not to be too imposing or anything,” you grin and he just laughs again, shaking his head.

“I don’t think you could be if you tried.” He reaches out to pat your shoulder before backing his way to the door. “I’m right down the hall if you need anything. Get some rest, alright? I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning, Frankie. Sweet dreams.” You barely catch the flush that brings to his cheeks as he pulls the door closed behind him. With a sigh, you flop backwards on to the bed. What a turn of events. Your mom would have a heart attack if you told her about this…best to not. Best to just…sleep it all of. Hopping up, you quickly change into your pajamas, crawling in to bed. Even though it’s the guest room, there was a lingering scent of Frankie, you note. His detergent or something, but it reminded you of him. Your eyes slip shut as you succumb to sleep, and honestly? You can’t remember a time you ever slept better.


	3. The Break In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The armed robbers are still on the loose as Frankie let’s you go back to your house for the day with plans to return in the evening until all hell breaks loose in what is suppose to be your safe place.

Waking up to the smell of cinnamon and coffee leaves you momentarily confused as you shoot upright in bed. A bed that was most assuredly not your own, in a room that was definitely not in your house. The haze of sleep clouds your brain as your pulse thrums loudly in your ears all muddling together in a dull panic as you try to ground yourself. You can hear a low whistling outside of the door, and as you blink away the sleep, you slowly begin to recall the events of last night and how they lead to you staying a house over in Frankie’s guest room. With a sigh, you allow yourself to fall backwards onto the bed, arm thrown across your eyes as your breathing returns to normal. A gentle knock on your door, or rather…Frankie’s door, makes you jump.

“Decent,” you call, and the door opens. You move your arm off your eyes just enough to see your neighbor poking his head in, his typical baseball cap absent for the first time since you had met him. His curly brown hair looked so soft. It truly suited him. “Mornin’ Frankie,” you mumble, your voice still laced with sleep.

“Morning. I’m almost done making some french toast for us, so I wanted to come see if you were awake. I didn’t wake you, did I?” You shake your head as you sit up, stretching your arms over your head just enough to expose a small strip of skin along your stomach before letting out a yawn. You are completely oblivious to the faint blush that dusts his cheeks as his eyes widen just a touch.

“No, I was already up.”

He clears his throat, nodding. “Oh, good. Do you, uh, do you drink coffee?”

“Yeah, sounds fantastic.” You flash him a smile as you get out of bed, moving to your bag to pull out a set of clothes.

“How do you take it?”

You flash him a smirk, and the moment he sees it, his eyes go wide and he splutters, looking for words to cover up his unintentional faux pas which only results in earning a chuckle from you. “Cream and sugar, please,” you make out around laughs. Frankie’s cheeks are on fire now, and you can’t help but think about how adorable it makes him look.

“R-right,” he squeaks out, voice higher than normal. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go do that and I’ll see you when you’re ready for food.” He slips out, quietly shutting the door behind him to leave you grinning like a fool in the bedroom. He really was too easy to tease.

After finishing freshening up, you make your way to the kitchen to join him. The smell of fresh french toast and coffee is intoxicating, your mouth watering in response. You catch him just as he expertly flips the toast with just a flick of the pan, whistling to himself. “Well alright the, Gordon Ramsay,” you quip, leaning against his counter in a reflection of him last night. He throws you an amused sideways glance before reaching for a steaming mug, handing it over to you.

“There’s more sugar if it isn’t sweet enough for you.” You accept the mug graciously, wrapping your hands around it to soak in the warmth before taking a small sip.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” He beams at your praise before sliding the last slice of toast onto a plate. “It smells delicious. You sure you aren’t a professional chef?” He just laughs as he leads you to the table where syrup and some berries are already waiting for the both of you.

“No, I just have a mother who loves cooking and imparted some of that wisdom on to me.”

“Remind me to thank her some time.” You wait for him to take his seat, joining you before you tuck in to the spread. The toast is sweet and rich on your tongue, and you let out a soft groan of pleasure sitting back as you look to Frankie, eyes shining. “Jesus Francisco. You could open a restaurant. This is the best French toast I have _ever_ had.” The brilliant smile he gives you, full of pride and excitement earns him a smile of your own as he digs in to his own plate. You eat in a comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds those of your utensils scratching at the plates, or the soft sips you take of your coffees.

As you push your plate away from you, stuffed to bursting, you sit back in your chair with a content sigh. He wastes no time in clearing your plate, and you watch him as he takes everything to the kitchen sink. You make note of the way his shirt defines the muscles of his back as he moves, shaking your head after a moment of realizing you were staring. Deciding to be the first to break the silence, you finally speak up. “So…any words on the robbers? Have they caught the last guy?” You’re scared of the answer, whether it be yes or no. No would mean your neighborhood was still unsafe, but you would get to stay with your handsome neighbor for another day. Yes would mean you would need to go home and that thought disappointed you. You have no idea why, you haven’t even known Frankie that long.

“Not that I’ve seen. Checked the news first thing this morning and there’s no update yet. I don’t expect any issues during the day though. Most aren’t brazen enough for that kinda thing.” He flashes you that kind smile, the same one he gave you the day he came to help you unload. “If you wanna go back to your place, you should be fine to for the day, and you can come back over tonight. We could do pizza and a movie if you want?” His last question carries hesitation as a pink flush raises in his cheeks.

You raise an eyebrow with a grin. “Now Frankie, you wouldn’t be taking advantage of this situation to ask me on a stay-in date, would you?”

“No!” he answers far too quickly, the tips of his ears burning. “I mean, wow that sounded rude of me, sorry. I mean like, we could just…hang out. If you wanted to, that is. Like, if you just wanna come over to sleep that’s cool too.” He mutters a few more things too low for you to hear as he finishes with cleaning up, staking the dishes in the sink.

“I’m playing, Frankie, relax.” You chuckle and stand to head back to the guest room. “Pizza and a movie sounds great. Just so long as it’s a comically bad one. I’ll be back over around six?”

“That’s the only appropriate kind of movie to watch while eating pizza.” He grins at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes that makes your heart do a little flip. “Six sounds great.” He follows you back to your room as you gather your things before escorting you to the front door. “I’ll see you at six.” You flash him a happy smile and nod before thanking him, making your way back to your house.

As you close your door behind you, an uneasy feeling settles in your gut. You chalk it up to nerves of going back over to Frankie’s tonight and idly brush the feeling aside to go about your day. Passing the office, you fail to notice the slightly open window, curtains moving oh so gently in the wind. Instead, you head straight for your bedroom, itching for a shower to help wash away the anxieties of the previous night. As comforting as Frankie’s home is, nothing beats a hot shower when it comes to relaxing. Humming softly, you gather your things, laying out a towel as you step into the shower. The water soothes the dull ache that is nearly constant in your bones as you close your eyes. Getting older sucks.

You had never been one to succeed at meditating effectively, but your time spent in the shower is probably as close as you will ever get to it, your brain nearly completely black. So when there is a crash in your bedroom, you nearly hit the ceiling. Your feet slip and you grab the door of the shower to keep from hitting the floor of the tub. Adrenaline courses through your veins as you regain your footing, turning off the shower to listen better. You don’t hear anything, maybe you really were just imagining things while you were lost in your own thoughts. With a deep breath, you wrap your towel around you before stepping out of the shower and exiting the bathroom. “It was just my imagination. It was just my imagination.” Repeating the words like a mantra, you make your way to the closet to get a fresh change of clothes.

The scream that tears from your throat as you open the door could have woke the dead. There’s a man standing in your closet, with wild eyes and a salacious grin, clearly waiting for you. He lunges at you, hands outstretched to grab your towel. You bolt from the room as fast as your feet would carry you, feeling the tug on the towel that you manage to keep around you. You had to get out, you had to get away. Heavy footfalls follow behind you, chasing you down the hallway to your living room where you have just enough time to grab the planter on your coffee table, turning to hurl it at your assailant. In your haste and fear, it misses, shattering on the wooden floors of the hallway. As he leaps at you, your heart plummets and you scream again as you fall to the floor. _Someone help me._

Frankie can’t help the smile on his face as he watches you may your way back to your place, only heading back inside as you disappear through your doorway. He heads back to the guest room to fix your bed for the coming night, turning down the covers invitingly, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible. He knows how nervous this is making you, so anything he could do to make your more comfortable, he would.

The more time he spent talking with you, the more he liked you, he realizes. You’re smart, funny, and witty as all get out. Not to mention one of the most gorgeous women he has ever laid eyes on. How you were single, he’d never know. Wait…were you single? You had said you had no one here…but that didn’t mean you were single.

“Calm down, Fish, don’t put your cart before the horse here. She’s just the neighbor. The really cute, really sweet, really funny neighbor. Shit.” Frankie runs a hand through his hair, getting up to go grab his cap before heading out the front door to start working on his truck. That damn AC went out again, and in Texas in the Summer, that was just straight up not an option. His truck beeps as he unlocks it, and the sound is followed by…was that a scream? He looks around, confused and straining his ears to see if he can catch the sound again. May just be the neighborhood kids out playing. Except…today was a Wednesday…and it was school time. His pulse roars in his veins, suddenly on high alert.

Then he hears it again, that scream. _Your_ scream. Prefaced by the crash and shattering sound of _something_ coming from your house. Frankie’s blood runs cold and the next thing he realizes, he’s sprinting to your door, his concealed pistol in his hands. The familiar weight grounds him just enough to try the door before just kicking it in. By the grace of whatever god may exist, it’s unlocked and he throws it open. The sight before him has him seeing red; you on your back in nothing but a towel, screaming and writhing to get away as your assailant pins you to the ground and _laughs_. Frankie rushes forward, smacking the butt of his gun across the man’s face in the most effective pistol whip you have ever seen. The force is enough to knock the man off of you and you roll over, scrambling away to a safe spot behind Frankie, tears streaming down your cheeks as sobs wrack your chest.

The man scrambles to his feet, cackling in a way that makes your stomach churn as he wipes his blood spattered jaw, leering at Frankie. When your name leaves Frankie’s lips, you look up to him, eyes wide and terrified. “Close your eyes and cover your ears and don’t open them until I say so.” His voice is calm and emotionless ans so unlike anything you’ve heard from him yet. You hesitate for a moment until the man lunges at Frankie and you see his weight shift into a steady stance, one you recognized. One that had been drilled into you by your father every time he took you to the range. You slap your hands over your ears and snap your eyes closed just in time to cover most of the bang from the pistol in Frankie’s hand. It causes you to jump, regardless, far too close for something like your hands to block out the noise.

The room falls silent as you tremble there, your damp skin and hair causing you to shiver as you press your hands to your ears. When gentle, calloused hands carefully grab your wrists, lowering your hands from your ears, you flinch away, eyes snapping open. You expect to see some gruesome scene, but all you see are his eyes. Frankie’s kind, warm eyes so full of worry for you as he looks you over. “Just keep looking at me, okay? Don’t look anywhere else, just at me.” He speaks so softly, carefully bringing a hand to your cheek to wipe a stray tear. “Did he hurt you at all?” You shake your head at his question, fighting the curiosity to look around him, knowing you won’t like what you see there. Relief floods Frankie’s eyes as he uses the hand cupping your cheek to keep you looking at him. “Do you trust me?”

“I…what?” Confusion sweeps over you at his sudden question, your body still trembling with the adrenaline coursing through it.

“Do you trust me?” he asks again, gentle as can be.

“Y…yes Frankie, I trust you.”

“Okay. I need you to close your eyes for me, okay? I’m going to lead you to your bedroom so you can get changed.” You freeze in his grip, staring at him with terrified eyes. “What? What’s wrong?”

“H-He was in my closet. I don’t know if anyone else is here.” Your voice wavers, fingers coming up to desperately grip the flannel shirt Frankie wears. He stiffens and nods, his training from spec ops taking over once again.

“I need you to stay here, eyes closed for me. I’m going to clear the house, okay? I’m going to keep you safe, but you have to promise me you won’t look, understand?” You give him a weak nod, but that’s not good enough this time. “Sweetheart…I need you to use your words for me. I need you to say it out loud. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” The sound is small, fearful and you see the sorrow in Frankie’s eyes. He cups your cheek gingerly. You had fantasized about feeling his hand caress your face. But not like this.

“Close them, and I’ll go clear the house.” You nod, your eyes closing as you tilt your face to the ground. The sound of Frankie standing and moving away from you makes your heart sink, suddenly wishing he was there next to you with such a fierce desperation that you can’t suppress the little whimper that slips past your lips. After what feels like an eternity, you hear him return, crouching down in front of you. “You can open your eyes, sweetheart,” he whispers, doing his best to not startle you. “There’s no one here, just you and me.” You look up at him with teary eyes and you see his soften. He places a hand on the back of your head, pulling you into his chest as you let out a strangled sounding sob as the reality of what has just transpired settles over you. You want to get changed. You want to get out of here. “Let’s get you taken care of, and we’ll go back to my place. C’mon.” You nod against him, taking a deep breath that is just overwhelmingly him before he helps you to your feet. As promised, you close your eyes, letting him guide you. When he gives you the all clear to open your eyes again, he moves to leave the room and on instinct you grab his hand.

“Please don’t go. Please.” It’s barely a whisper, but it’s so broken that Frankie can’t find it within himself to say no as you cling to his hand like a life preserver. He hesitates before turning to face you, resting both hands on your shoulders.

“I’ll wait right here, I promise. I won’t look, so tell me when I can turn back around, okay?” There is such a rich sincerity in his eyes that you feel like you could start crying all over again. How could anyone be so selflessly kind? You give him a nod as you sniffle and he drops his hands, turning to sit on your bed as he faces away from you. “While you do that, I’m going to call 911 to come take care of things, okay? Then we’ll go back over to my place so you don’t have to be here anymore.”

“Thank you, Frankie,” you manage to whisper as you find your baggiest long sleeve shirt to pull on followed by a pair of loose sweats. You want to feel hidden and safe, and this was the best way you could think of to achieve that.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling out his phone to relay the happenings. “No, we aren’t staying in this house. I live right next door, I’m taking her there. She doesn’t feel safe here, we aren’t staying here with the living room as it is.” Frankie’s voice is firm, refusing to take no for an answer as he talks to the dispatcher while you gather a few more things to take back to Frankie’s, laying them on the bed next to him. “Yes, she’s physically alright, she’s just really shook up. The ambulance isn’t for her.” You shudder as you sit next to him and he holds his arm out for you invitingly. You scramble across to him, instantly snuggling into his side and hide your face against his chest as you try to block out the images from earlier. “Yeah that’s fine. We’ll be waiting. Thank you.” He taps the screen, ending the call as he looks down at you clinging to his side. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you clinging to him before, but never like this. It should never have been like this.

“Hey sweet thing,” he coos, drawing your attention up to him. He smiles down at you gently, brushing a strand of your still damp hair out of your face. “Let’s go back to my place, okay? You’re safe now.” You nod, still not letting him go as you cling to his comfort, the feeling of his shirt in your hands steadying you. His hand rubs tenderly up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you. “Do you have everything you need? Let’s go out through the back door, okay?” You nod again, not trusting your voice as you stand and gather your things into your arms. Frankie gets to his feet as well, placing his hand on the small of your back as he leads you out the back, preventing you from seeing the mess in the living room.

With each step away from your house, the tightness in your chest relaxes more and more until you’re once again back in the cozy home of your darling neighbor. For the first time since the whole ordeal began, you feel like you’re able to breathe again as the door to Frankie’s house shuts and locks behind him. “Come on, let’s get you settled, okay?” That gentle voice of his is soft as he leads you back to the guest room for you to put your things down. “Do you want to stay in here? Or the living room? I need to be in the living room for when the officers arrive.”

“Can I stay wherever you are, please? I just…don’t want to be alone right now.” You hate how small and scared your voice sounds, but can’t seem to help it. And Frankie doesn’t blame you for it one singular bit.

“Then the living room it is. C’mon.” His hand finds its way back to the small of your back, leading you back to the living room where he sits you on his couch before grabbing you a blanket to wrap up in. “Do you need anything? Something to drink or eat? Some music or a show? What can I do to help you?”

Your hand works its way out from under the covers he’s bundled you in, grasping at his. “Just…stay here for a while, please. That’s what I need.” Frankie’s eyes fall to your hand holding his, and he carefully turns his hand to cradle yours so he can run a calloused thumb along your knuckles. When he looks back up, he catches you staring at his face, and his brow furrows in confusion.

“Is there something on my face?” His voice is suddenly very shy and it brings a tiny smile to your lips as you shake your head.

“No, I’m just looking at you. You have a nice face.” Frankie’s ears immediately start turning red as he tries to splutter out a thank you. But such sweet moments are not made to last, and the two of you are interrupted by the knock on Frankie’s door. He squeezes your hand, getting up to open it and greeting the two officers waiting by the door. You’re ready for this nightmare to be over.


	4. Of B-Movies and Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You seek comfort in your neighbor’s presence after the events of the day through B-Movies and pizza. When nightmares plague your dreams, how will Frankie help you?

The officers who came to respond to the call were exceptionally kind. One stayed with Frankie, asking for his rundown of the story as well as asking to see his side arm while the other, a gentle young man with kind emerald eyes stayed with you to get your story. He never pushed too hard, instead speaking in an encouraging tone whenever you started to answer a question, offering praise when you finished answering a question in an attempt to comfort you. It worked to a degree, but what you really wanted was the familiarity Frankie offered with his presence. Having him away, outside talking to the cop caused your heart to beat more rapidly, even though logically you knew you were safe with an armed officer sitting beside you. 

After the nice man, Officer Jameson, finished his questioning, he offered you a kind smile and gentle squeeze of the shoulder before heading out to regroup with his partner, leaving you alone on the couch. You hunker down, drawing the blanket more tightly around you as you do in an attempt to surround yourself with Frankie as much as possible, the blanket smells like him. Your eyes clench closed as you try to just imagine being held by him as you try to keep from panicking again, but it doesn’t work quite the way you were hoping it would. Breaths come short and shallow as you attempt to calm down, your heart pounding painfully in your chest while breathing becomes difficult with your tightening chest.

“Sweet thing?” Frankie’s gentle voice pulls you from the vortex of your panic, your eyes snapping open as he carefully seats himself on the couch next to you. He’s cautious, careful not to move too fast so he doesn’t startle you. “You alright?” Your bottom lip trembles and you shuffle across the couch over to him, all but climbing into his lap. He brings his arms around you carefully, rubbing your back through the blanket. “They’re going to go take care of your house, so you’re going to stay here with me for a while, okay?” You sniffle again and nod into his chest, trying so desperately not to start crying again.

Frankie doesn’t press, sitting with you as long as you need to calm down and get your wits back about you. His rhythmic heartbeat under your ear lulls you into a calm as your eyes slip closed. You don’t mean to fall asleep, you really don’t, but damn you’re so tired after everything… maybe a nap wouldn’t hurt.

When your breathing evens out and you go limp against him, Frankie looks down at you, worried for a moment until he sees you’re only sleeping. He can only imagine how exhausted you must have felt during all of this after the rush of adrenaline finally wore off. His arms stay around you, keeping you safely against him while you sleep, hoping to keep any of the nightmares that the events of today may bring you at bay.

As you nestle there in his arms, he takes a moment to watch you, learning the features of your face and committing them to memory. You’re absolutely stunning in every way he could have imagined and when you sleep, you look so soft and peaceful that he feels his heart throb in a way it never has before. He hates the conditions that have brought you here, clinging to him in your sleep, but he would be lying to say that he wasn’t a little happy that you felt the comfort of his presence enough to keep his shirt fisted in your hand as you sleep. Eventually, Frankie feels himself beginning to nod off as well, taking comfort in the feeling of your weight against him. A few minutes of resting his eyes shouldn’t hurt.

When you begin to stir several hours later, you realize you’re against something so warm and you try to snuggle closer to it. That’s when you feel the arms around you hold you a little tighter and your eyes fly open as heat floods your cheeks. You tilt your head up to see Frankie there, holding you close to him in his sleep. You can feel his heart beating under your fingertips and it brings you so much comfort that you can’t help the small smile the tugs at your lips. He really did have a nice face, especially peaceful as he sleeps. You shift just a bit, your leg starting to fall asleep and it causes your neighbor to stir, warm brown eyes fluttering open to look down at you.

“Sorry,” you whisper, trying to not break the silence surrounding the both of you. He just smiles and slowly sits the two of you up from where you had slid down the couch in your sleep.

“For what? Helping me with the best damn nap I’ve ever had before in my life?” He grins at you before yawning and your heart flutters in your chest.

“For waking you up. You looked pretty out when I woke up.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “No big deal. I need to get up anyways. Not as young as I use to be. If I sleep too much during the day, I’ll never go to bed tonight. Can’t fall asleep on command anymore.” You let out a small laugh as you scoot out of his lap, taking the blanket with you as you keep its comforting warmth around your shoulders. “You hungry? We were out for a bit,” he comments as he checks his watch. “Looks like we missed lunch completely. It’s 3 in the afternoon already.” He stretches his arms over his head as he stands up, revealing a small strip of tummy.

You move to say no when your stomach betrays you, growling loudly. “I… uh… yeah, I’m hungry.” Frankie grins at the sound and nods, pulling out his phone.

“So, you and I had a movie night planned. I think we got several unexpected hours to binge even more movies if you’re down for that.” He looks at you expectantly and you can’t help but think that he looks almost like a puppy, his eyes shining. 

You chew your bottom lip before nodding. “That sounds nice. As long as we start with Tucker and Dale Versus Evil,” you bargain. Frankie stares at you, mouth hanging open and you squirm under his gaze. “What?”

“That’s my favorite movie, how did you know?” He plops back down on the couch, pulling up the online order for the local pizza shop.

“It’s mine too. Dad and I would watch it together all the time!” You smile excitedly, tucking your legs up underneath you as you face him. “We would watch it any time I was upset because it would always cheer me up.”

“The kid just threw himself into the wood chipper!” He quotes with the most convincing Tucker impression you have _ever_ heard and you explode into laughter.

“Chad, you’re half hillbilly!” You cry, still laughing.

“No…Nooooo!!” Frankie wails, flailing so dramatically he falls from the couch with an oof and your sides begin to ache from laughing so hard. You cover your face, knowing what’s coming and trying to prevent it, but it’s too late. You snort, a little thing that always seems to happen when you laugh exceptionally hard. Frankie stares at you for a moment from his newly acquired spot on the ground before he grins, climbing back onto the couch as you snort again and he giggles.

“D-Don’t l-laugh at” **-** snort- “me!” You throw one of the couch pillows at him and he laughs, shaking his head.

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” he grins, tucking the pillow behind you as he watches you laugh, thinking just how beautiful you look when your eyes crinkle at the edges with laughter. Heat races to your cheeks at the complement, your stomach doing that little flip again when you lock eyes with Frankie as you calm down. He looks so effortlessly relaxed and happy, the light in his eyes so warm. A gentle blush paints his cheeks as he holds your gaze until he finally blinks, grounding himself. “Right, pizza!” he quickly looks away, locking his gaze on his phone. He mumbles to himself, deciding what to order and wondering if he should indulge in some garlic knots and you take a moment to study his face. The high arch of his nose, the line of his jaw peppered with stubble, the smile lines by his eyes…they’re all so beautifully and perfectly him and… why are you thinking about your neighbor like that?

You quickly look away, trying to focus on anything other than your incredibly attractive neighbor whom you were just asleep on not fifteen minutes prior. When he speaks again, you jump, snapping your eyes back over to him as he looks at you with concern. “You good?” he asks with genuine worry and you nod, touched by the gesture.

“Yeah, just… looking at your…house?” you offer lamely and he just raises an eyebrow, but decides not to press.

“Well, pizza will be here in about half an hour. Wanna wait to watch until it gets here?”

“Yeah. Uhm… could I use your shower, maybe? While we wait? Is that okay?”

“It’s totally okay! Mi casa es tu casa!” He grins and you can’t help but return it, thanking him quietly as you stand up, excusing yourself for the shower. Frankie watches you go before clicking on the TV, but quickly finds himself unable to focus on it, his mind constantly wandering to you. A frown tugs at his lips as he shakes his head, clearing it. You’re just the neighbor and a friend and he’s helping you out with a difficult situation. It’s what any good friend would do and he shouldn’t press the issue. To do so would be… uncouth. So instead, he pushes the idea far from his mind. Just a friend.

The afternoon and evening go on as one of the best you have ever had. You and Frankie manage to burn through five different terrible movies, laughing till you’re nearly in tears as you finish the night with Kung Fury. “How does the Viking Age explain the laser raptors?!” Frankie yells, gesturing wildly at the screen. “What even _is_ a laser raptor?! Where can I get one?!” You’re cackling at him, considering this payback for him making you sit through Rubber with not nearly enough alcohol in your system to make the movie anything other than absolutely painful.

“You get them in the Viking Age, obviously. Keep up Morales!” you quip, your feet resting in his lap as he side eyes you, unamused as you wink at him before taking a swig of your beer.

“Right, the Viking Age. Let me just go get my Delorean real quick.” You chuckle as he rolls his eyes playfully at you, happy to see you enjoying yourself after the day’s events.

“Chop chop! We got times to be!” You laugh, shaking your head before letting out a shriek as he tickles the pad of your foot, causing you to yank it back as you stare at him with wide eyes. His eyebrows shoot up as he watches you, a mischievous glint in his eyes as a Cheshire smile splits his lips. “Don’t. Don’t do it Morales. Don’t you fucking dare.” Your voice is low as you point your bottle at him.

“Somebody is ticklish~” he very nearly sings. “What amazing information to have.”

“If you so much as think about it, I am not responsible for your safety,” you caution, eyes narrowing. He nods in agreement, settling back into the couch to finish watching the movie. Cautiously, you extend your legs back into his lap and he just lays a hand on your shin, trying desperately to keep the grin off of his face. Just when you’ve relaxed and set your empty beer bottle on the coffee table, he strikes, tickling the pads of your feet and you scream, jumping up only to be followed by him, a grin still on his face as you play cat and mouse around the coffee table. You squeak, trying to make it over the arm of the sofa, but he catches you, pulling you back to him and you yelp as both of you fall to the floor. He assails your sides with tickles, his laughter mingling with yours until your laughs turn to gasps and pleas for him to stop. Never one to ignore a woman’s request, he stops bracing his hands by your head as he catches his breath, straddling your hips. You pant for breath, glaring up at him playfully as he grins that signature grin back at you, eyes sparkling.

Both of you suddenly become intimately aware of how close you are to one another, and a blush paints his cheeks and the tips of his ears as heat races once more to your own cheeks. He hovers over you, eyes locked on yours and he thinks for just a moment how easy it would be to lean down and kiss your beautiful lips. You think for a moment how much you wish he would. Suddenly, he gets a hold of himself, swinging his leg off of you as he helps you sit up and you smack his arm playfully, having regained your breath and smile. “You’re a handful, Frankie. Now I gotta be careful around you in case you decide to use the knowledge you’ve gained tonight for nefarious purposes.” He laughs, standing up and helping you to your feet.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Though I can’t promise that I won’t exploit it again in the future.” You poke his tummy and he grins, shaking his head. “Nope! We don’t share that little feature.” You grumble softly and he ruffles your hair before going to grab the empty pizza box to toss it. “I am invincible!” he calls from the kitchen.

“Everyone has a weakness Morales, just give me time!” You hear his lovely, rich laugh from the kitchen and your heart does that weird fluttering thing again and you’re beginning to wonder if it has something to do with your kindly neighbor, or if you should go see the cardiologist.

As he makes his way back in, he catches you yawning and has to try excruciatingly hard to not let out an audible “awwee” at the sight. Instead he smiles and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “It’s late,” he notes, nodding to the clock. “It’s been a long day. Thinking we should probably call it for the night.”

You nod, rubbing at your eye as you drop the blanket back on the couch. “Sounds like a good plan. Lord knows I could use the rest.” You turn to make your way to your guest room that Frankie had made sure to prepare for you, stopping in the doorway to turn and smile at him. The sweetness of your smile catches him off guard, and he damn near trips. “Thank you, Frankie. For everything. You’ve gone above and beyond as my neighbor, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for absolutely everything you’ve done for me.” You step towards him and get up on tip-toe, pressing a quick peck to his cheek before leaning back and smiling up at him. He reaches up to touch his cheek, eyes wide in surprise as he stares at you. “Goodnight Frankie. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“G-Goodnight,” he whispers, his heart pounding in his chest. As you shut the door with a smile, he stands there, trying to get a grip on his legs again as he stares at the door. You had kissed him. _You had kissed him_. And your lips had felt so soft, even if it was just a peck on the cheek. He strides quickly to his room, shutting the door behind him. This would complicate things…

You didn’t admit it to Frankie, but you were nervous to be sleeping on your own after everything that happened today. As soon as the door shuts, you begin a scan of the room, checking anywhere and everywhere someone could be hiding multiple times over before you feel secure enough to slip into bed to try and sleep. Emphasis on try. It doesn’t take long for you to be gripped in the talons of a nightmare, reliving the experience from earlier. You wake with your heart pounding frantically in your chest, sitting ramrod straight in bed with your hands trembling in fear as the adrenaline courses through you. It isn’t until you feel something wet on your hand that you realize you’re crying. You can’t do this. _You can’t do this_.

Swallowing your pride, you climb out of bed, wrapping the fleece throw around your shoulders before shuffling down the hallway to Frankie’s room. You hesitate outside his door, worrying your lip between your teeth as you think over what you’re about to do. You feel like a child honestly, about to ask if you can share the bed with your parents after a bad dream, only this time it was your very kind, very attractive neighbor. He has already done so much for you, could you really ask more of him? Something so intensely personal as asking to share his bed? When the house creaks, settling with the coolness of the night, you jump and rap your knuckles against the door, fear making the decision for you. You hear mumbling and the sound of footsteps as you stand outside his door before he opens it, staring down at you with a bleary, confused, and worried gaze.

When he whispers your name. It’s thick with sleep and guilt settles in your stomach for waking him up. “What’s wrong sweet thing?” he asks with a yawn.

“I… I….” You what? Had a bad dream? You’re an adult not a five year old. You can’t manage to get the words out, instead casting your gaze to the ground in shame as you sniffle. Frankie blinks, feeling his heart grow heavy as you stand outside his door. He recognizes the tormented light in your eyes. He had seen it in his own when he looked in the mirror after coming back from South America.

“Nightmare?” he murmurs, and there is no judgment in his voice. No aggression or frustration, just concern. You look up to him with teary eyes and nod, sniffling again. “I get them too. C’mere.” He takes your hand gently in his own, leading you into his room as he shuts the door behind you both. You stand there awkwardly until he guides you to bed, pulling back the covers for you to climb in and tucking you in when you do. He rounds the bed, climbing in beside you with a sigh and you immediately relax just hearing his breathing next to you.

It’s quiet for a few moments before you let out a mumbled “I’m sorry.”

Frankie sighs, shuffling to you and reaching out to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back against him. “You have nothing to apologize for. I understand.” His voice is so thick with sleep that a little bit of an accent shows through and it only helps to relax you further. “Today was bad, it’s okay. I get nightmares about bad things that happened to me too.” Your back is pressed up against Frankie’s chest as he holds you comfortingly, his hand resting on your stomach. “You’re safe now. I’m here and I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise.” You sniffle as tears prick in your eyes. How could a single person be so kind?

“Thank you,” you manage to whimper and he grunts, squeezing your waist reassuringly.

“Sleep now. You’ll be okay. If the nightmares come back just grab on to me. I won’t go anywhere, I promise.” You nod, the feeling of his body heat against your back slowly coaxing your eyelids shut. “Goodnight, _bonita_ ,” he murmurs before letting the room fall silent, leaving you to fall asleep safe in his arms.


	5. Diners and Antiques

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peaceful night follows after joining Frankie in his room, and this morning he decides to take you out to show you around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: food mention, morning wood, no beta

The morning light pours through the soft curtains, washing over your face as it rouses you from sleep. You stretch, taking a deep breath of a warm, woody scent that definitely is not the smell of your own pillow. As sleep slowly slips from you, you realize just where you are. You’re in Frankie’s bed, wrapped in Frankie’s arms as he snores softly beside you. The night had been peaceful after Frankie wrapped around you, the nightmares staved off thanks to the peace and warmth he provided. You can feel your face growing hotter at the memories of last night, still embarrassed at your own actions.

A frown tugs at your lips as your mind wanders off until the movement of the man who currently holds you shakes you from your reverie. He lifts his arm from around you, rubbing his eyes as he stretches with a groan before relaxing back against the mattress. “Good morning,” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep. You tilt your head up to look at him, seeing him flashing you a gentle smile as he looks down at you, and you can’t help but flash a shy one back in return. His eyes are so warm when he looks at you, even if he still has the far off look waking up tends to leave. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” you squeak out, looking away again as your face burns and heart races. “Yeah, I did. Uhm… thank you for this, for letting me sleep in your bed…. You didn’t have to.”

He gives you a lazy shrug as he lays his hand back across your hip, comfortable in your contact. “I’ve been there. PTSD is a bitch. I functioned on three hours a night after I came back from deployment.” _And South America,_ he thinks. But that’s not something he needs to burden you with. Not right now. Probably not ever.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to mumble, looking back up at him with the kindest eyes he thinks he’s ever seen and his heart does that weird stutter again. “I had forgotten that you probably understand better than most.”

He nods as he flashes you a smile, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your hip. “It’s okay. They fade with time.” That pulls a gentle smile to your lips and Frankie relaxes just a bit at the sight. “So… breakfast? Or do you need to get to a job or something?”

“No job, yet. I’m waiting to hear back from a company downtown. They had an open white-hat position that I interviewed for. I should hear back soon.” You sit up, smiling down at Frankie. His hair is mussed, sticking out in all directions in the worst case of bedhead you have ever seen, and you can’t help but think how adorable it makes him look as the light dances on his honey kissed skin.

“White-hat? Like… a hacker?” His eyes go wide as he sits up, suddenly _extremely_ interested in just what it is you know how to do.

“Yeah, a white-hat hacker position. The company deals with network security, so they need people to purposefully try and break their protocol. I used to do hackathons and things like that back in college. One time, Visa had a contest to test out their new ‘unbreakable’ firewalls.” You grin and roll your eyes, remembering the forty-five minute spiel the head of development had given about this new system. “I broke in and copied thirty thousand credit card numbers and SSNs in less than ten minutes. You should have seen the look on the head dev’s face, I’ll never forget it.”

“You sound like a computing wizard!” Frankie’s face betrays his awe and you fidget a bit under the gaze.

“I mean, I wouldn’t call myself a wizard, but I know my way around one, for sure.”

“No no, definitely a wizard.” He chuckles as he gets out of bed, scratching the back of his head. His brow furrows in confusion as you quickly avert your gaze before he looks down, realizing he’s still in his boxers from last night and that there is a…rather noticeable tent in them. His cheeks flash red as he covers himself and awkwardly side steps to the bathroom. “I am _so_ sorry. It’s just that it’s morning and I-I-.” His mouth snaps shut before his lack of filter gets him into any more trouble than he’s sure he’s already in as he watches you hop up and dart for the door.

“I’m sorry! I’ll, uh, leave you to attend to… things…. Yeah. I’ll see you in the kitchen!” Your voice is strained, up an octave from your usual speaking voice as you laugh awkwardly in the doorway before shutting it behind you. You heave out a sigh as you rest against the wall, trying to calm your heart down. Frankie. Frankie in his boxers. Frankie in his boxers _with a boner._ Frantically, you shake your head, trying to clear it like some etch-a-sketch as you go back to the guest room to change.

You’re finished before Frankie surfaces, sitting at the kitchen table as you scroll through your emails in hopes of good news. When he finally makes his way in, he clears his throat to draw your attention back over to him. “I’m, uh, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” That blush is still painted across his cheeks as he stands there rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding eye contact.

“It’s not a problem. I know guys, uh… have certain _things_ to deal with in the morning.” You flash him a reassuring smile, having had the time to get your wits back about you. “What are you feeling for breakfast?”

“Well, I figured we could get out of the house and go get something, maybe? You haven’t really had much time to explore the area, right? There’s a diner about fifteen minutes out that we can go to run by a really nice couple.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he waits for your reply.

“Do they make a good cup of coffee?”

“Oh, the best!”

“Then it sounds great!” The smile that stretches across his face at your answer is so bright, you swear you see sparkles for a moment as he excitedly makes his way to the door. In a lot of ways, Frankie reminds you of a puppy. Always excited and friendly and bouncing with this wonderful energy.

“I’ll drive!” he chirps before stopping for a moment, hand hovering over his keys. “Well…that is…if you’re okay with the windows being down? The AC went out and I need to find some time to fix it.”

“That’s fine, I don’t mind.” Hopping up, you follow him to the door and slip on your shoes. He locks up behind you before leading you to the truck, helping you up into the cab with a smile before joining you. It’s still early, relatively, but the heat of the Texas summer is already settling in so Frankie pretty much immediately rolls down the windows. The truck fits him, really. Rugged and well loved. You can tell it’s been refurbished, maintained by the handyman sitting next to you and everything has a touch of him in it, all the way down to the color. What catches you off guard, however, is the music that pours from the stereo. You arch an eyebrow, tossing a look his way as ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” fills the cab of the truck.

“Wham!? Really?”

“Don’t judge me. George Michael has an amazing voice.” You can’t help the snort that comes from you as you cover your face to hide your smile. “Wham! is a fantastic group and we respect them in this truck!” He’s grinning now as you dissolve into giggles. His only wish is that he could hear them better, but over the sound of the wind, road noise, and the radio, he barely catches them.

“Ok, ok, I’ll pay my respects to Wham!,” you manage to chuckle out between laughs as Frankie makes his way through town. It’s an area you hadn’t been to yet, the older side of town with quaint little single story shops lining the road. He catches your curious look as he pulls up to the stoplight.

“This area was the first main street through town when it was established. The whole city grew from this little town. There’s some amazing shops through here. A little bookstore, an old time soda shop, and an antique store.” Your head whips around at the mention of antiques, eyes wide. “Well that got your attention,” he chuckles. “Tell you what. After breakfast, we can go to the antique shop for a bit? Maybe you’ll find something you like!”

“Only if it’s okay with you. I don’t want to impose more than I already am.”

“Impose? Chica, you’re not imposing. I’m offering.” Frankie whips off the road into a dirt parking lot before tossing you a handsome, confident smile. “I offered to show you around, so let me show you around.”

You blink, taken aback at the smile on his face before nodding, giving him a small smile in return. “If you’re sure, then I would really like that, Frankie. Thank you.” He flashes a wink paired with a click of his tongue before hopping out and coming over to help you down from the nearly obnoxiously tall truck.

“You’re gonna love this place, I promise.” He takes your hand without really thinking as he leads you across the street to the front of the little diner, and the contact has your heart hammering in your chest in an almost painful way as the tips of your ears burn. He only lets go to open the door for you, little bells chiming above his head. “¡ _Abuela!_ ¡ _Es Francisco! Tengo una amiga conmigo hoy.”_

“¡ _Pacito!”_ comes an excited voice from the kitchen before one of the shortest women you have ever seen comes nearly running from it. She has such a kind face and beautiful smile that you can’t help but smile fondly at her. She starts babbling at Frankie in Spanish far more quickly than anything you could possibly have a prayer of understanding, so you simply follow as Frankie guides you with his hand on the small of your back. She sits you both at a booth in the back before setting a menu in front of you and running off. You aren’t sure what she says in passing as she leaves, but whatever it is leaves Frankie flustered and blushing.

“She seems really nice,” you offer in an attempt to soothe him and he nods with a small smile.

“Her and her husband both are. They’ve run this place as long as I’ve lived here. She said she’s excited to see me out with a friend this time.” You can’t help but chuckle at the comment as the elderly woman comes rushing back with two mugs and a pot of steaming coffee. “Cream and sugar, right?” You nod at his question and Frankie quickly translates while you peruse the menu. “I’d recommend the huevos rancheros, myself. Their green chili is to die for. Just don’t get it extra spicy, because then you _will_ die.” He grimaces, as if plagued by an uncomfortable memory and you smirk, leaning forward.

“You made a regrettable decision one morning, didn’t you?”

“That puts it so lightly that it doesn’t even scratch the surface.” You grin at him, sitting back again as you sip your coffee, a pleased hum leaving your lips as you do. “Told you, the best cup of coffee. It’s magic, I tell you.”

Breakfast continues on pleasantly, the two of you swapping stories about food before Frankie starts asking more about your hacking abilities. You’re in the middle of explaining that it’s nothing like what you see in movies when your email sounds and you excuse yourself for a moment to check it. When you gasp, Frankie gives you a worried look until you turn the screen to him, letting him read the email. “You got the job!” he gasps, looking to you with excitement. “That’s amazing! Congratulations!” He reaches across the table to squeeze your hand, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he beams at you.

“I can’t believe this, I’m so excited!” You lay your phone back down, nearly bouncing in your seat from excitement as Frankie waves _Abuela_ over to get the check. When he explains all the noise, however, she flashes you a thumbs up before looking back to Frankie. You miss what she says again, only understanding that she thoroughly turns down whatever offer Frankie makes when he looks at you helplessly.

“She’s saying it’s on the house, as a congratulations to you.” He conveniently leaves out the part about her congratulating him on his new woman, thinking it best to not venture too far into those waters just yet, if at all.

You immediately fret, trying to tell her no, that you want to pay but she simply isn’t hearing it. Instead, she rests her hand on your shoulder, points her thumb at Frankie, and then _winks_ at you. Your eyes widen as she laughs, walking back into the kitchen and when you look back at Frankie, his face is redder than the tomatoes on your plate. He clears his throat awkwardly as he watches you before finally squeaking out “So, antiques?”

He doesn’t take your hand this time on the walk to the shop, and you can’t decide if you’re upset or relieved. Maybe a little bit of both. Frankie is an exceedingly handsome man, and has the personality of an angel, but he’s just your neighbor. Your very kind, very generous, very funny and sweet neighbor. Fuck. You blink, snapping out of it when he waves his hand in front of your face. “You still with me, chica?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Spaced out for a minute there.” You flash him a small smile, praying he doesn’t ask what took you to la la land. He appraises you for a moment before shrugging as he comes to a stop in front of a small shop with “Winchester Antiques” painted on the front window.

“Here we are! Ready to do some exploring?” You bounce on the balls of your feet, nodding excitedly and he grins, once more opening the door for you. It’s like watching a kid in a toy store as you dart inside with wide and excited eyes. He waves to the owner, Mark Winchester, before following after you, making note of what things you seem to linger over longer. Old books, tea sets, skeleton keys, and lanterns seem to catch your eyes most often. That is, until you make it to the jewelry case at the front. Mark looks up, watching the two of you with a smile as the light from the display case causes your eyes to twinkle. “You like old jewelry?” Frankie asks softly and you nod, resisting the urge to press your face to the glass like a child.

“I like shiny things, elegant things. I used to wear my grandmother’s jewelry when I would visit her, and it always made me feel so grown up.” You turn your head to give him an elated smile before looking back into the case. “I really like that one.” Frankie follows your pointing to a simple earring set. Blue stones set in a ring of clear crystal on silver studs. “I have a necklace that matches them.”

“Hey Mark, how much?” The owner pushes off the back counter, coming over to inspect the item.

“An excellent choice. Sapphire and diamond set in sterling silver. We think they were made around 1908. We have them priced at $385, since they’re real sapphire, not lab-created.” You blanch at the price, nowhere near being able to afford something like that, not while you haven’t so much as gotten your first paycheck yet. Mark catches your look and offers a sad smile as Frankie’s mind works at lightning speeds. He calls your name gently before pointing out the key collection on the back wall that you had missed before, sending you off that way so he can talk to Mark in private.

As soon as you’re out of ear shot, he leans over to speak with his friend. “I want them. I’ll need to pay installments, but I can pay 20% today as a down payment.” Mark arches his eyebrow as he looks back at the case. These particular rings had been sitting here for quite some time and while he would prefer the full payment up front, he trusts Frankie enough to allow something like this.

“Alright. Bi-weekly payments?” Frankie flashes Mark a smile as he works out the details. You’re going to be so happy once he finally picks these up at the last payment. His eyes drift to you as he waits for Mark to draft up the agreement, watching as you run your fingers over the old skeleton keys.

You’ve always had a thing for keys, ever since you were little. You can’t put your finger on what it is exactly that you like so much, if it was their weight or their look or the way they klink together. Mark certainly had a wide selection of all kinds of heavy, old-timey keys, and you decide to treat yourself today, picking up a couple that you like best before meeting Frankie back at the front. “I’m going to get these, I think.” He smiles down at you as you show him the keys, loving the childlike excitement on your face as you hand the keys over to Mark and move to the register. Frankie waits patiently behind you as you pay until his phone goes off and he excuses himself to take the call outside. You watch him through the window until Mark hands you your bag with a smile that says he knows something you don’t as he bids you to come again.

As you join Frankie outside, you catch the tail end of his conversation. Something about picking someone up today. He slides his phone back into his pocket, smiling at you. “How would you like to meet my daughter today?”


	6. Mallory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Frankie go to pick up his daughter, where you meet his ex-wife and her new husband. Things are strained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurt/comfort, sad!frankie, angst, a comforting ending through, food mention

As you sit in the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck, you chew nervously at your lip. The question had caught you by serious surprise. Of _course_ you wanted to meet Mallory, the little girl looked absolutely adorable in all of the pictures Frankie has of her around his house, but the anxiety of meeting her _mother_ is really starting to eat at your nerves.

“She’ll be fine,” Frankie had promised when he first saw your hesitancy. “Nancy understands that I have friends, including female ones.” Your heart sank at that. Friends. Right, just friends. “Besides, you’re one of the most likable people I know. You’ll get on just fine.” With a hesitant nod, you agreed, following him back to his truck to go and get his little girl. Though you’re still not certain if he’s trying to convince you or himself. 

The whole way, Frankie babbles, his excitement tangible as he tells you stories about his little girl, and it warms your heart and calms your nerves to see him so excited. Before you know it, he’s pulling up in front of an absolutely _massive_ house, complete with a circular drive and Corinthian style pillars supporting the cover of the entryway. Your jaw falls open as he parks the truck. “Your ex… lives here? What does she _do_ for a living to afford this?”

“She uh… she doesn’t do anything, actually. She’s a stay at home mom. Her new man makes all the money. He’s an exec for a fortune 500 company.” You hazard a glance over to him, seeing his knuckles starting to turn white on the steering wheel as he stares ahead.

“Frankie…? What’s wrong?” You reach over to place your hand on his shoulder and the contact seems to jolt him from his reverie.

“I… sorry. It’s just, my ex said Alexi was going to be gone this weekend and, well….” He points to the Lexus sitting in front of the house. “Looks like he hasn’t left yet.” The venom in his tone is unmistakable, and it brings a frown to your own lips as you look back to the mansion.

“Well, let’s make this quick then, yeah? The less time you have to be here, the better.” You turn to face him again, giving him a reassuring smile that works to relax him, if only just. With a sigh, he nods and kills the engine before hopping out and coming around to help you down.

The entryway is just the tip of the iceberg, you realize as the front door opens up. At your side, Frankie stiffens as a man greets you both in a distinctly Russian accent. “Morales,” he says curtly before his eyes land on you, sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze is hard as flint and you immediately feel smaller than an ant under it. “And you are?”

“She’s my friend,” Frankie is quick to reply, reaching behind you to rest his hand on your lower back. “We were getting brunch when Nancy called for me to come pick up Mallory. Now please let me see my daughter.”

You blink, looking up to Frankie at the tenseness lacing his voice. It’s odd and cold and very much not the man you have come to know over the past couple weeks, and it causes you to wonder just how bad the blood between these two men truly is. Your thought is broken, however, by the sound of a woman further in the house.

“Alexi, is that Francisco at the door?” A moment after, a gorgeous blonde woman pokes her head up from behind Alexi. “Oh, you brought someone?” She wedges herself between Alexi, shooing him back off into the house before turning to extend her hand to you. “I’m Nancy,” she says, voice dripping with a sickening sweetness. Her hand is limp in yours as you shake it, returning her smile as you offer your name. “I’m sorry to interrupt your day, but I had to schedule an emergency appointment and can’t take Mallory with me.” She turns away from you, ushering the both of you inside.

Your jaw hits the floor at the sheer opulence of the place. The entryway is vaulted, a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A grand staircase leads up to the second floor and all around there are pedestals with vases or busts of people you don’t recognize. The house is clean, almost clinically so as she leads you to the baby’s playroom, and you have never felt more out of place in your life.

When his eyes finally land on the little girl, Frankie surges towards her, scooping her up to nuzzle against her cheek. “There’s my _princesa,”_ he coos, lavishing her face with kisses as she gives a delighted squeal.

“Her bag is packed and ready to go. I can pick her up this evening after I’m done with all of my appointments,” Nancy prattles, gesturing to the bags by the door. Your brow furrows at her tone of voice, sounding more like she’s talking to a sitter rather than the father of her child. “Her snacks are in there, along with some formula that I packed for her, though she should be good with the snacks, and a change of clothes. If she gets fussy, she probably needs to be changed and-”

“Nance,” Frankie interrupts. “I know how to take care of my daughter.”

Nancy’s jaw snaps closed at that and she nods curtly, eyes darting to you once more before she pastes on that same sickly sweet smile. “Right, of course. How silly of me.” She strides past you, going to kiss her daughter goodbye before heading back out. “You two can see yourselves out. Good to meet you.” From her tone, you know that she really thinks it anything but, but never one to forget your manners, you nod and offer a quick “you too.”

“Can you grab the bag? I’ll take her car seat.”

“Yeah, I got it.” You sling the day bag over your shoulder, a bit surprised at just how heavy it is before quickly following Frankie out of the house. It isn’t until you’re back in the truck, door shut and seat belt buckled that you finally feel as though you can breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” Frankie mumbles as he heads for home. “Alexi and I have never gotten along, and whenever he’s there, things between Nance and I are always more strained.” He glances your way, an apologetic light in his eyes. “I know that was probably really uncomfortable for you.”

“I’ve seen worse,” you reply with a smile and the hope to ease him, giggling as Mallory babbles in the back seat. “But I don’t think Nancy likes me.”

“You’re just new. It’ll get better the more she gets to know you.”

“You know, I think I’m fine with not getting to know her or her husband.” Frankie chuckles at that, nodding. He really couldn’t blame you for that. 

“Not one for the high life?”

“Never have been. I’m an army brat, remember?” You flash him a grin. “I grew up house hopping, and the army is nothing if not stingy when it comes to housing allowances. I’m perfectly content with my little house and backyard with my pretty awesome neighbor.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him, earning a laugh as he visibly relaxes back to the comfortable, happy Frankie that you have grown so fond of. “Besides, something about Alexi just...makes me uncomfortable. I get a weird feeling from him.” At that, Frankie nods, understanding exactly what you mean.

By the time the three of you make it back to his driveway, the tension of visiting his ex’s house has all but faded away as the both of you laugh over the absurd stories Frankie has to tell from his army days. “And you _ate it?_ Seriously?”

Frankie is damn near doubled over the steering wheel, wheezing with laughter as he nods, trying to get his words out. “P-Pope t-t-tried to s-stop me bu-bu - _wheeze-_ B-Benny stopped him!”

“Morales, it’s a wonder you’re still alive,” you giggle, hopping out as he finally kills the engine, a smile on your face the whole time. You make your way to the back seat of the truck, opening up the door and clamoring up on the running board to find Mallory staring up at you with those big and beautiful eyes. “Well hello there beautiful. Your daddy is certainly a silly man, isn’t he?” The little girl babbles out sounds that vaguely sound like words in reply.

“I’m not _that_ silly,” he gripes from behind you, finally having regained his breath after calming down. You glance over your shoulder at him, grinning as you nod.

“Sure you’re not, Frankie. Sure you’re not.” He pouts at your reply as you hop back down, grabbing Mallory’s bag as you get out of his way so he can get out his daughter. “Awe, don’t pout! I said you’re silly, I never said it’s a bad thing that you are.” The man simply grumbles in reply, undoing the fastens on his daughter before pulling her out of the truck. Side by side, the resemblance between the two is uncanny. It looks like Mallory inherited almost none of her mother’s traits, rather looking like the spitting image of her father. Your heart does a strange little flip in your chest at the sight, your mind wandering somewhere it _definitely_ shouldn’t, and so you shake your head quickly to clear it as you turn to follow your neighbor back inside. This is no time to daydream of domesticity with your neighbor who just explicitly called you his friend. 

“Alright baby girl,” Frankie coos to the little one. “We’re going to have a great time today, yeah?” Mallory babbles in reply as Frankie carefully sets her down on the carpet in the living room as you stand awkwardly in the entryway, quietly setting the bag down as you suddenly feel like a stranger in the house once again. It takes him a moment, his eyes glued to his daughter, but eventually Frankie’s gaze lands back on you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What you standing around for? You okay?”

“I, erm, I just thought that maybe you’d… want to spend some strictly father-daughter time with her since you didn’t get the chance to before….” You avert your gaze, looking out the living room window towards your own house. A chill runs through you when you see the hazmat van out front, men in white plastic suits moving in and out of the home. So much for going home… not that you necessarily wanted to just yet. Frankie follows your gaze, quickly standing up to shut the blinds.

“You’re welcome to stay.” He looks back at you with a small smile. “I’d like the company. And it gives Mallory another play partner, which I’m sure will make her happy. She can be quite the handful.”

“She takes after her father, eh?” you jab, smiling as you make your way over to the spot that Mallory has deemed hers and is now smacking the ground impatiently.

“You’re dang right she does!” His smile is radiant as he joins the two of you on the floor, entertaining the little one.

The house is filled with squeals and giggles while the three of you play, and it feels like no time at all has passed when you realize the natural light in the living room has dimmed dramatically. A quick check of your phone tells you that it’s nearing dinner time already, your stomach accenting the point with a rather loud growl, catching Frankie’s attention. “Heh, sorry. I guess we lost track of time?”

“It happens to me a lot when it’s my turn to watch her.” Frankie rocks back on his heels, readjusting his cap as he purses his lips in thought. “If you can keep an eye on her, I can go get started on dinner.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind cooking so you can spend some more time with her.” Before you can argue any further, Frankie is waving you off with a smile, standing to go get cooking.

“I insist! How do tacos sound?”

“Heavenly.” With a smile, you turn back to Mallory, engaging in a riveting game of peek-a-boo. All the while, Frankie watches you from his spot at the counter in the kitchen as he preps the food, smiling at how naturally you take to the little girl, and how perfect you seem to look sitting there in his living room. It’s like you belong there, like you’ve always belonged there. When you turn to flash him that beautiful smile, his heart very nearly stops in his chest, and he quickly throws himself back into preparing dinner to avoid the heart attack that watching you any longer is bound to cause him.

“It smells good, Frankie.” He’s not expecting your voice to be so close, jumping a bit at the sound before looking up to see you standing near the table, Mallory on your hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “She kept crawling this way, so I brought her over so she didn’t feel left out. Isn’t that right, pretty girl?” At your question, the girl babbles out what sounds like _dada_ as she reaches for Frankie. With a smile, he takes her, perching her on his hip as he moves the pot of finished meat off of the burner.

“Do you mind helping me take all this to the table while I put her in her highchair?” Frankie looks at you with that big brown eyes of his, pleading with them as if there was any doubt you would help him at the drop of a hat.

“Of course! Go strap her in and I’ll take care of all of this.” He flashes you a relieved smile at your reply before taking care of Mallory, coming to grab the drinks for both of you.

As he settles at the table across from you, Frankie flashes you an apologetic look. “I know I said today we would get to hang out and see the town. I’m sorry it turned into babysitting duty for you.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Frankie. I had a great time today. I mean it. Plus, I got to meet this little angel. Isn’t that right?” You tap her nose and she lets out a delighted giggle before stuffing some of the cheese on her tray into her mouth. “You’re a dad. That means sometimes you need to do dad stuff. I get that.”

The relief on his face is blatant, and for a brief moment you wonder if anyone he’s seen since his ex left him has been less than receptive to Mallory. “Thank you. That means… more than you realize.” With a soft smile, you tuck back into your meal, enjoying the comfortable quiet together.

The domestic moment is over all too soon when there’s a knock at the door. From the way Frankie’s face falls, you have an idea of who it is. “Do you mind wiping her down? I’ll go let her mom in.” With a concerned look, you nod, watching as he all but drags his feet to the front door as you clean the mess from Mallory’s face and hands. “Come on in, Nance.”

“Where’s my little princess?” Nancy’s voice carries through the house, a shrill contrast to the warmth Frankie imbues the place with. You paint on a polite smile as the woman swoops in to all but knock you out of the way of her daughter and you miss the way Frankie’s scowl deepens as you excuse yourself, heading to your guest room to clean yourself up. You know she doesn’t like you, but there was no need to be so rude about it. With a sigh, you close the door softly behind you, letting the parents take care of whatever they need to take care of. 

Through your closed door, you hear muffled voices, Nancy’s more distinct as she raises her voice at Frankie, though you can’t make out the words. It’s… not quite yelling, but it’s definitely not a friendly conversation. A harsh slam of the front door makes you wince, and you decide it best to give Frankie a bit of space after what sounded like a heated departure. That is, until there’s a quiet knock on your door.

You aren’t prepared for what you see when you open the door.

Frankie is standing there, eyes on the floor and his shoulders hunched over and trembling. His hands are clenched at his sides, and when he lets out a quiet sniffle, your heart breaks. You reach out for him, taking his wrists as you step closer to try and look up at him. That’s when you see the tears shining on his cheeks. “Oh Frankie…,” you whisper, pulling him back into your room, guiding him to the bed. He sits, albeit hesitantly as you kneel in front of him, trying to get him to look at you. “Talk to me, Frankie, what happened? What did she say?”

It takes a long moment before he opens his mouth to tell you, still refusing to look at you. “Am I… a bad dad?”

The question rocks you to the core, your blood turning to ice in your veins. “What?”

“Am I a bad dad?” Glassy brown eyes finally find yours as he looks up at you, full of desperation. “Am I?”

“No! Frankie, why are you asking this? From everything I’ve seen today, you’re an amazing dad.” The ache for this man turns to anger as you realize what’s brought this on. “Nancy said you’re a bad dad, didn’t she? Because I’m here right now?” Frankie’s lack of response is all you need to know the truth, scoffing with such disgust that he looks up at you, worried. Are you mad at him, him wonders. He doesn’t think he could take you being mad at him right now. 

When you see the panic bubbling up in his gaze, you take a deep breath to relax before carefully removing his hat and brushing some of the curls from his face. “She’s a hypocrite if she’s upset that you have a friend over while you’re watching your baby girl.”

“I… I don’t-” you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“She _married_ someone else. Integrated a new person into every aspect of Mallory’s life, and she’s upset when you have a friend over while you have her! It’s hypocritical for her to say something like that. You, Francisco Morales, are not a bad father.”

He had never thought of it that way before, allowing the wounds of Nancy’s words to cut far deeper than he should have, far deeper than he would have if his confidence hadn’t already taken a massive blow when his ex-wife left him and took his daughter with her. He knows deep down that you’re right, but he doesn’t have the energy right now to try and reconcile that, the grief of having to say goodbye to his daughter again weighing him down, exhausting him. This time, when he looks back up at you, it’s with desperation, asking a question that he can’t bring himself to voice. But somehow, you know. You rise up, sitting next to him on the bed before wrapping your arms around him not unlike how he had comforted you the night before. He nuzzles against your neck, the stubble tickling as you hold him against you, letting him cry all the tears he needs to in the comfort of your arms.

“Frankie?” you finally ask with a quiet voice when his cries have abated to soft sniffles.

“Hm?” he nearly whimpers.

“Would you like to stay in here tonight?”

It’s quiet for a long moment before he finally replies. “Please.” 


End file.
